At this time, we are at an altitude of 10,000 meters.
An unmarked black Osprey transport plane was flying through thick cumulonimbus clouds.
Wolfgang von Baron Strucker sat on the leather seat, holding the lead box tightly in his hand.
He opened the lid, and the T-VEX liquid, which emitted a faint blue light, lay quietly inside, swaying slightly with the turbulence of the plane.
"What a pity."
Strucker sighed, a trace of regret flashing in his eyes.
"That scepter... is the key to the age of miracles. Just give me a little more time..."
"Damn Avengers!"
"Be content, Baron." A voice came to Strucker's ears. He turned his head and looked at Brock·Rumlow, who was walking over.
"... When God closes a door, he will always open a window. This thing may be more practical than the scepter."
"With this, you can crack the secret of how Vought's superheroes become stronger. Then you can create a super army belonging to Hydra."
"That's right, Rumlow. When the time comes, Hydra will no longer need to lurk, and we will rule the world!"
"In comparison, the 'Centipede Soldier' plan launched by that idiot Garrett used so many resources and came out with rubbish." Strucker said disdainfully.
"Of course, all this is thanks to you, Rumlow." He raised his glass and greeted Rumlow.
"If it weren't for the evacuation route you provided, those of us might have been thrown into the 'Arkham' by those freaks in tights by now."
"This is the arrangement of Commander Pierce, Baron." Rumlow grinned, his voice hoarse and low, no different from the original Crossbones.
"Sir, you are the brain of Hydra, and the brain cannot be damaged."
"Ah, Pierce." Strucker nodded, "Although I don't like that old fox's bureaucracy, he is indeed a good friend this time."
"In this situation, he can also arrange an evacuation route and a new base for me. It seems that although he has lost power in Security Council, his heritage is still there."
"Of course, if Hydra cuts off one head, two new ones will grow." Rumlow turned around and raised his glass in greeting.
"We always have a backup plan."
"So, where is the new base?" Strucker asked.
"Alps deep." Rumlow replied, "It is a secret fortress left behind during World War II. Even Germany people could not find it. Pierce renovated it, with complete facilities, sufficient energy, and it is completely isolated from the world."
"Very good." Strucker closed his eyes with satisfaction, "I believe we will be able to bring real order to the world soon."
A few hours later.
The plane landed on a hidden runway at Alps.
The Strucker team, under the guidance of Rumlow, walked into an explosion-proof door hidden in the valley.
"Welcome to the future, Baron."
Rumlow Enter the password, and the thick steel door slowly opens.
A blast of warm air came to my face.
Strucker originally expected to see a dilapidated and old Soviet Union bunker.
But the sight before him shocked him.
Spacious and bright hall, spotless epoxy resin floor, the most advanced centrifuge, gene sequencer, micro particle collider...
The equipment here is a whole generation more advanced than what he had at Sokovia!
"This... this is heaven!"
Strucker walked quickly to an analyzer and stroked it lovingly.
"Where did Pierce get these things? I know there are some things here, but they are the latest models of Vought Technologies that have only appeared in promotional videos!"
"Sir Pierce has some special channels." Rumlow explained calmly.
"It's not just the equipment."
Rumlow clapped his hands.
"Pah! Pah!"
The side doors on both sides of the hall open at the same time.
"Da da da da--!"
The sound of uniform footsteps sounded.
Two teams of soldiers wearing black combat uniforms and full-face tactical helmets ran out.
They quickly lined up in front of Strucker.
"Crack!"
A hundred boots stamped the ground at the same time, and the sound was as uniform as one person.
"Hail Hydra!!"
One hundred people.
A whole hundred people.
Strucker was surprised to find that the height, body shape, and even the standing posture of these people were all surprisingly consistent.
The knuckled muscles are clearly visible even under the uniform, and everyone exudes an aura of coldness, efficiency, and absolute obedience.
"This..."
Strucker walked up to a soldier and looked up at the strong man who was a head taller than him.
"These were also given to me by Pierce?"
"Yes." Rumlow walked up to him, "This is the 'Winter Guard' newly trained by Commander Pierce. They have undergone special nerve strengthening. They have no pain, no fear, and are absolutely loyal."
"They will be your assistants and your bodyguards."
"Baron, you can safely conduct research here. Even if Avengers finds this place, this guard can tear them into pieces."
Strucker Looking at this army full of murderous momentum, the sense of security in his heart instantly exploded.
"Okay! Great!"
He laughed, turned around and patted Rumlow's hard shoulder.
"Thank you Pierce for me! Tell him that I take back my previous evaluation of him, and we will be the best partners from now on!"
Rumlow looked at Strucker's wildly laughing face, the red light in his eyes flashed slightly, and then disappeared.
"I will convey it, Baron."
And this time in a safe house somewhere on Earth.
There is an atmosphere called "despair" permeating the air at this moment.
There were no lights on in the living room, only the oversized wall-mounted TV lighting up the space.
Nick Fury slumped on the sofa, a decadent posture he had never shown in front of others.
His windbreaker was thrown to the ground, and his iconic eyepatch was taken off, revealing his gray-white blind eye.
On the TV, the special report of Vought News Network is being replayed.
On the screen, there is the Hell-like laboratory of Sokovia.
They are children with ragged clothes and scars all over their bodies.
It was that young man's empty eyes and the accusation that shot into Fury's heart like a bullet:
"... The black man with the eyepatch found me... He said S.H.I.E.L.D. would protect me..."
Immediately afterwards, there is an enlarged close-up of the file.
The signature on it--Nick Fury.
Each letter was like a red-hot iron, burning hard on his retinas.
"No... no..."
Fury's voice is hoarse, like a dying old man murmuring.
"That's the 'Secret Warriors' plan... that's to protect the earth..."
"I didn't sell them to Hydra... I didn't!!"
He suddenly grabbed the Crystal ashtray on the coffee table and smashed it against the TV.
"Bang!!"
The screen shattered and sparks flew.
The accusing voice finally disappeared, and silence returned to the room.
But Fury knows that this is useless.
The whole world has seen it.
The whole world believed it.
Any of his defenses pale in comparison to those conclusive "evidences."
He didn't just lose.
He was ruined.
In his life, for S.H.I.E.L.D. and for the earth, he has done countless dirty work in the shadows and suffered countless infamy.
He thought he was a night watchman, an unknown hero silently guarding the world.
But now, he has become a human trafficker, the director of Hydra, and the devil who sent children to Hell.
It's over.
Completely finished.
This black pot is harder than Vibranium and darker than a black hole.